Lasting Impressions - Her Side

By Patricia A. Myatt

LASTING IMPRESSIONS - HER SIDE It's not nice to tell lies, and keeping secrets only makes it worse. Tyra Randolph found that out the hard way, when her lies and secrets caught up with her on the happiest day of her life-her wedding day. But she's not alone, her millionaire fiancé, Thomas Buachant, has his own list of lies and family secrets. And when the lies and secrets collide, there's no place to hide.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jul 4, 2021
• ISBN: 9780978597542

Book preview

ONE

Tyra kissed the lobe of Artest’s ear, whispering his name in the interim and felt him slip his arm around her waist, drawing her closer. She fit so perfectly in his arms and his body was warm and hard. Their tongues played a sensual dual of criticism and it made her body tingle. Slowly she pulled back giving him a quick peck on the lips before reaching for the bottle on the table.

Would you like some wine? She asked.

No. I don’t need any, thank you.

Her chest heaved as she breathed. Artest touched her chest with the tips of his fingers.

Your heart is beating so fast.

I’m a little afraid. She confessed.

Afraid of what?

She chewed her bottom lip in nervous thought, but did not answer him.

I know this is your first time, Tyra, don’t be afraid, I won’t hurt you. Look, we don’t have to do this tonight. I can wait until you’re ready.

No, I’m ready—–I just don’t want to—–to get pregnant, Artest. I mean, I—– Her wavering voice trailed off and she knew that her facial expression revealed she was having second thoughts about what they were about to do.

He put his finger on her lips to silence her.

You won’t. I have protection. When the time is right, I’ll use it.

She visibly relaxed and smiled, but she knew there was still a hint of fear in her eyes. She could see a glint of radiant energy in his eyes as he gazed at her soft brown skin, running his fingers along her curved body. They were both silent.

Then he gently kissed her and as their passions quickly grew, Artest slowly untied the robe she was wearing and slid it off her shoulders. Pulling the string that untied the top of her red teddy, he removed it piece by piece until she was completely naked. Her hands awkwardly stripped his shirt from his shoulders then nervously unfastened his pants as his swollen member pressed against the zipper. Artest picked up the condom and tore open the packet with his teeth before sliding it out between two fingers. Holding his manhood with the other hand, he rolled the condom down as far as it would go then looked over to see Tyra watching him. He smiled then maneuvered their bodies so they lay facing each other.

Slowly he traced the outline of her face with his fingers. Kissing her again, his tongue moved around inside her mouth touching her tongue, teasing her. He kissed her along her neckline, moving down to her chest then gently sucked the hardened buds of her breasts, while his hands explored the contours of her hips, thighs and finally, her hot forbidden valley. Her breast heaved with each shuddering breath, nipples saluting the warm air as the blood pulsed through her veins straight to her head.

The sweet scent of passion permeated the air like honeysuckles on a hot summer night. Her body ached with desire for him as her back arched, articulating the words her mouth could not say. Her eyes closed as he maneuvered his six-foot frame on top of her placing his hands under her lower back and parting her legs with his athletic thighs.

A roaring flame pulsed through her body as with one gliding movement, he slid his swollen mass down to her entrance and slowly thrust forward. Tyra opened her eyes to see a look of concern on Artest’s face.

Are you okay?

I’m okay. She was trying to sound mature.

Does it hurt? He asked with a hoarse voice.

Yes.

Do you want me to stop? No, I’m, okay.

Her mouth felt dry so she licked her lips and once again saw the concern in Artest’s eyes. Tyra smiled and closed her eyes again. She balled her hands into fists to keep from pressing her nails into his back as her body tensed when he tried to slowly push inside her.

Relax, Tyra. Take a few deep breaths and open your legs, he whispered.

She could feel the pressure loosening once she relaxed and opened her legs wider. Again, he pushed slowly, taking his time, like a master craftsman carefully polishing a precious piece of delicate porcelain.

Nothing in all her innocent life had prepared her for this moment. She had not realized she was holding her breath until the need to expel air forced her to exhale. His body was hard and his manhood was a constant penetrating ache inside her. Tyra looked at Artest’s face, his eyes close, head back, a look of calm on his face as if he were in another place a beautiful place.

Artest, it hurts, she whispered through clenched teeth. The twinge of panic in her voice made him open his eyes.

It will only hurt for a few more minutes, I promise. His strained whisper blew against her ear as he struggled to regain control of his excessive sexual desire. This allowed her body a chance to adjust to the newness of his presence. She moaned against the depth of his continuous thrusts. As he whispered again words of his never-ending love for her, tears welled up in her eyes and rolled down the side of her face. She kissed him passionately and held him tightly in her arms as they melted into one and exploded into ecstasy. His body trembled slightly as he laid still until his strength appeared to give way then rolled onto his back.

Are you okay, Tyra?

Yes. Her voice was hoarse and shaky.

Their bodies glistened with sweat as Tyra ran her fingers along her body, joining droplets together into one big circle in the center of her flat stomach then looked at Artest. His eyes were close again, his chest rose and fell with each breath he took.

She ran her hand across the smooth baby hairs on his chest and he turned his head to look at her. She smiled touching the side of his face.

I love you, Artest.

The words were whispered so low, yet he heard them.

And I love you, Brown eyes.

She moved into his arms. Tyra realized her life would never be the same. She had crossed the great divide into womanhood, entering a new phase in her life. She had tasted the forbidden fruit and it was amazing. Feeling the comfort of his arms as he cradled her against his body made it worth the pain.

Later in the bathroom, she carefully examined her face in the mirror. She wanted to see if she looked older than her 18 years. In her reflection, she saw no difference except for a noticeable sparkle in her eyes, a glow in her complexion and a smile that showed the true meaning of the joy of sex.

***

Ladies and gentlemen, the Captain has turned on the no smoking sign. Please place your seats in the upright position and fasten your seatbelts. The voice over the PA system jarred her attention back to reality.

Damn, I hate Flashbacks. What Tyra Ann Randolph really hated was remembering the young man that had been her first love. A love that was so sensual she could still remember his touch, taste and smell. Oh Lord, how Artest made love, she thought. That’s why they call it the forbidden fruit. The little voice inside her head remarked. She didn’t want to think about Artest or the way they made love. After four years of living on fantasies and promises, it was over, just like that, and it had taken two years for her unhappiness to end. She promised herself to never look back, after all, he hadn’t he had gone on with his life. Tyra smoothed her long black hair back, placing a hairclip around it. Fastening her seatbelt, she glanced out the window of the plane to watch the baggage handlers busy at their jobs. She had a new attitude about life and promised herself she would remain an island of calm amidst the hectic harrowing rush of ideas going through her head.

The Christmas holiday was over and she was on her way back to New York, back to her job as Commercial Copywriter at McCarthy & Braggs Associates. The holiday had been fun as it always was when she was home in Baltimore Maryland. Tyra had spent a few days with her best friend Marsha Josephs reminiscing about old times and their experiences at Howard University. She remembered they discussed one particular afternoon, a small group of girls sat on the grass quad under a large tree talking after class.

Girl, can you believe we’re in college? Asked Tameka who turned to watch two young men walk pass.

"I could if you would stop gawking at every boy passing by, Tyra said through unmoving lips.

I can’t help it if I’m beautiful and boys keep looking at me ‘cause they want me.

Tameka, the only reason a boy looks at you like that is because he wants some of what’s between your legs, a sassy Marsha interjected with a smirk then continued, then girlfriend, they’ll move on to the next one.

Tameka rolled her eyes as she commented, Marsha, everybody knows you and Tyra got boyfriends already, so you don’t have to look around. Plus, I’m looking for a husband.

Their boyfriends are their husbands haven’t you noticed—–and that Artest Collins is at NCSU, hundreds of miles away. I bet some big-butt, big-breast Carolina girl’s already got him drooling. Shawanda proclaimed.

"Shawanda, you need to shut your damn mouth! Marsha snapped.|

That’s okay, Marsha. Shawanda’s so busy spreading her legs and being the campus whore, she hasn’t had time to know any boy with his pants on, so we can’t expect her to understand why Artest is only drooling for me. Tyra scoffed with a snap of her fingers. Then turning to Tameka, she added, But you, girl. You should be trying to get an education, rather than looking for a husband and being so fast, regardless of a boy’s advances toward you.

Girl, you’re wasting your time talking to her. She’s boy crazy. Her hormones are running a marathon. Let it be. Besides, we have to get ready to go. Marsha said as she and Tyra got up and walked away from the circle of girls.

Stan is going to pick us up and then we’ll wait at my house for Artest’s bus to arrive. I thought you two might want to be alone for a little while before he starts greeting the rest of the folks.

And why would we need to be alone? Tyra scoffed.

Girl, please! Don’t make me start calling you names. Why else, duh?

Tyra blushed.

I know. I just feel a little funny fessing up after telling Tameka to chill out. It makes me look like a real hypocrite. But I haven’t seen him in two months. God I don’t know how much longer I can take this. Each time he comes home, it’s harder to let him go. Last time he left I was miserable for two days missing him.

Uh huh, girl. But were you missing him or just a part of him?

You are so bad, Marsha. Of course I was missing him. All of him! She smiled at Marsha.

Sometimes I’m afraid I love him too much. I try to play it cool, but I just want to grab him and never let go. Do you think Shawanda could be right? Maybe Artest is looking at the girls in North Carolina or maybe he already has another girl there?

Don’t even think like that. Artest loves you. Why do you think he’s here every time he’s off and where is he the whole visit? With you, duh! He knows you love him and he wouldn’t cheat on you. I see the way he looks at you when you two are together. It says he feels the same way about you.

I don’t know how he looks at me, but he sure makes love like he misses me.

Well, there you have it. Men always communicate their feelings by the way they treat you. If he makes you moan, then he loves you.

Marsha, where do you get this stuff?

From my aunt Clarise. You know, the one who is five years older than me.

And where does she get it?

"I don’t know, but she’s a walking library on men. Anyway, you just keep being in love with Artest and bunk what Shawanda has to say. A few years from now when you’re walking down the isle getting married, Shawanda will be giving blowjobs at the truck stop with both hands.

They laughed and walked toward Stan’s car.

***

Tyra smiled as a little chuckle passed through her lips. She thought about her parents, Annie, a retired school teacher and Albert, a leading D.C. Cardiologist and how they had not been keen on the idea of her moving to New York. Three years later, they were still updating her on open positions in the D.C., Maryland area. Her biggest supporter to her move was her sister Cynthia. Cynthia was twelve years her senior and very protective of her. However, she felt Tyra needed to get away from familiar surroundings to heal the pain and unhappiness brought on by Artest’s sudden disappearance. With Cynthia’s blessing, Tyra made the move.

Tyra shared a trendy, upscale apartment on the Lower East side of Manhattan, with Audrey McGwan, a tall, red haired native New Yorker by way of Ireland. They had met two years earlier at McCarthy & Braggs Associates. Tyra did an ad campaign for Flawless Modeling Agency where Audrey was a fashion model. The young women hit it off from day one. Their living arrangements pleased Tyra’s parents when they found out that Audrey’s father was the captain in a precinct near the young women’s apartment.

Tyra’s job was her life, working long hours in the office by day and at night, attending fashionable parties that her company sponsored.

Tonight’s gala event was the annual ‘April Rave’, hosted by Flawless Modeling Agency and held at Tavern on the Green. As the limousine pulled onto Central Park and West 66th Street, Tyra and Audrey could see white lights decorating the trees in the garden surrounding the restaurant. The limousine pulled into the courtyard in front of the restaurant and stopped. They got out and headed up the walkway to the entrance.

Once inside, Audrey gave the man at the door their invitations and they continued inside.

Tyra wore an ivory crepe dress that dipped low, exposing her smooth firm back and enhancing the curves of her body. A slit up the right side exposed just enough of her leg to raise the eyebrows of admiring males as she went by. She wore her hair pinned up tendrils of curls hanging on each side; a style Audrey insisted complimented her face.

Flawless Modeling Agency had gone all out for this affair, with food-laden buffet tables in three different areas and waiters carrying sliver platters with all kinds of hors d’ oeuvres and drinks. There were hundreds of brightly colored exotic flowers. Festive colored balloons and streamers hung in nets just below the sparkling chandeliers. In the center of the hall was a beautiful waterfall with a mixture of large exotic fish and brightly colored rocks. There were politicians, businessmen, actors and actresses, and anyone who was anyone meeting and greeting, wheeling and dealing at the gathering. An hour had passed since they had arrived and Tyra had been introduced to associates and acquaintances of Audrey’s, as well as running into some other business people she knew through her company. At the first opportunity, she wandered away from the group of models she had been standing with and found a space all to herself.

One more glass of wine and I’ll take a cab home, she mumbled.

She made a polite gesture of thanks to the waiter as she accepted a glass of wine. She turned her head and glanced in no particular direction and suddenly her eyes met and locked, for a brief moment, with the eyes of a man she did not know. He was standing with three other men who appeared to be in a deep discussion. He smiled, raised his glass in a toast. She smiled back, not really sure if he was even looking at her. Before she could confirm if he was toasting her, bodies of chatting people shifting along came between them.

Oh! My God! He’s gorgeous, she mumbled to herself.

When the way was clear, he was gone. Quickly she turned away. Curiosity made her nonchalantly glance in the direction where he had stood, but he was definitely gone.

Just as well. He was probably married, she mumbled again to herself as she took a sip from her glass.

Excusez moi, Mademoiselle, you have such beautiful eyes, but I’m sure men tell you that all the time.

From behind her, a low masculine voice enunciated each word perfectly with an intoxicating French accent. She turned and, to her delight, was face-to-face with the man from across the room. She smiled slightly.

You’re the first tonight, she responded.

Her brown eyes warmed his libido as he smiled back with a polished set of beautiful white teeth.

Then I am a happy man. Thomas E. Bouchant at your service.

He bowed slightly and extended his right hand toward her. She was fascinated as she placed her left hand in his and introduced herself.

Tyra Ann Randolph, but you may call me Tyra.

A pleasure to meet you, Tyra. He lifted her hand to his mouth, barely touching the back with his soft, warm lips.

I see there is no wedding ring on your finger, so I am assuming you are not married.

No, I’m not married. She smiled.

Then the pleasure is truly all mine—–Are you alone or has your date been foolish enough to step away for such a long period of time?

He was still loosely holding her hand. His expression was calm, but she sensed an eagerness to get a favorable answer.

I came with one of the models from Flawless Models.

His eyebrow slightly raised in confusion. Her almond shaped eyes and high cheekbones made her face look exotic. Her mouth was sensual—–her whole face was sensual. It complimented her body.

Then you are not a model?

No, I’m not.

He cupped her hand between his hands.

You have no idea how happy it makes me to know you’re not a model. Nevertheless, that is the advantage of being beautiful; you can choose any career you desire and your beauty opens the door, he said.

Yes, it’s true. But your brain will make sure you get the best contract, she remarked with a smile.

He smiled as well.

Would you care for another drink? He asked and she nodded.

So, tell me, Tyra. Since you are not a model, what do you do for a living?

I’m a Commercial Copywriter with McCarthy and Braggs.

Ah, yes. I’m familiar with them. What do you write?

I write short commercial ads for companies like Campbell’s and Ford Motor. Ads that say, buy a Ford and put your life in the fast lane,’ et cetera, et cetera.

I see. And do you like the kind of work you do?

Yes, for the most part, I do. But I look forward to one day writing a romance novel, maybe two.

You must know a great deal about love.

He smiled, watching her closely.

Actually, I’ve got a vivid imagination.

Still holding her hand inside his, he leaned closer.

I see, well, having personal knowledge on the subject doesn’t hurt.

Yes, I know and by the time I start writing the first novel, I may have enough knowledge to tell a good story.

I’m sure you will.

He took two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and gave one to her, then, clasping his fingers between hers, led her through the crowd to a side table where they sat. Thomas held his glass and watched Tyra sip her champagne. Then they talked for a while. He learned that she like to read books by Walter Mosley, Steven King, Agatha Christie. Which she explained had nothing to do with romance and that’s why she enjoyed reading them.

He was more a literary reader of Hemmingway, Fitzgerald and Wells. Often they would laugh between subjects and he would signal for more drinks.

Tell me, Tyra, does your job send you to different places to gather the materials you need for the commercials you write?

Actually, our research department gives me everything I need. In fact, my life experience of travel has been from Maryland to New York. And what about you, Thomas? I’m sure you’ve been quite a few places.

If you count England, Rome, Israel, China, Japan, and my childhood summers in France and West Africa to name a few, I guess you could say I’ve traveled a lot.

They talked for what seemed like hours and by the end of the evening, Tyra knew Thomas Edward Bouchant was the founder and CEO of NYSI (New York Stock Investors). His company managed mid-to large-sized companies in the stock market. He told her he got the idea to start his company in 2012, after an old college friend called him complaining that his small computer software company was being snubbed by the stock market.

When Willie came to me and told me how he was being ignored, I went into action. I knew some people at the stock market. I made a few calls and a short time later, his company was trading stocks. I’ll never forget, a year later, Willie called me again. This time he suggested I quit my job and go into business with him.

He took a swallow from his glass.

What did you do?

Thomas reached across the short distance between them and touched her nose in a teasing manner said, First, I had to be sure he wasn’t making drugs in his basement instead of software programs. Nevertheless, I put together a business plan, we met for lunch and a few months later, we were in business. A few years later, I bought him out and he went off to continue his lust for computer programs. He chuckled lightly.

Whatever happened to Willie?

Oh, he’s a multi-billionaire buying up companies and developing computer software in the basement of his mansion.

They both laughed.

Thus, is the story of the creation of NYSI—–now, tell me, Tyra Randolph, how did you end up in the Big Apple?

I just needed a change.

Well, this is the town for change.

He again sandwiched her hand between his.

Tyra tried to keep the conversation focused on Thomas, knowing that men are easier to talk to when they talked about themselves, and, if she listened, he would reveal many things. Thomas talked for almost an hour as she politely listened.

He was six-two, handsome and prematurely graying around his temples, which gave him an air of distinction and sophistication. By his manner, she could tell he was well education from attending expensive private schools. He was also very well dressed, gold-rimmed glasses over hazel eyes. Tyra guessed his age at early thirties and unmarried. He told her he was an only child, however, he did not elaborate about his family, except to say they dabbled in real estate and he often had Sunday dinners with them. He appeared not to notice the other women smiling and glancing longingly at him as he talked. His attention was focused on her alone.

Thomas had a stimulating quality about him that made her feel a little feverish as he held her hand, occasionally squeezing it just a little as he emphasized a point. All the while, she imagine herself kissing his lips and feeling his hands moving across her naked body in the heat of passion. In the back of her mind, she was having the hottest, riskiest, most intense love affair with this handsome stranger. As he talked, she commented now and then to let him know she was paying attention.

As the evening ended, he invited her to go out with him for